Dancing With the Dead
by Claude Lawless
Summary: Everyone has that one lover they remember, and Brook is no exception. And it's simply amazing what memories a starry night can stir up...


It was a warm, clear night, save for the occasional cloud that drifted across the face of the moon, and everyone on the Thousand Sunny was asleep except for one. On any other night, it would have been Usopp, but the sniper had come down with the flu not long after dinner and Chopper insisted on having him rest as much as he could. They had drawn lots to see who would take his place, and Brook had drawn the short straw. He accepted his loss with grace, and soon found himself standing alone at the helm of the ship.

At first it hadn't been so bad. The sea was calm, and he nodded off several times before he decided to busy himself by looking up at the stars. They were especially bright that night, and he could even see the Milky Way cutting a bright swath through the inky black the way a stream cuts through a meadow. He started to hum a song a pianist had taught him several years ago when they performed together. It was a lovely song, about walking in one's sleep down to a river of dreams. He would have to remember to play it in the morning, or better yet, the next time one of his friends requested a lullaby.

Now that he thought about it, the same pianist had taught him an actual lullaby as well. He had written it for his young daughter, who often had trouble sleeping through the night. He had met her once, when she and his wife came backstage after the show. She was a sweet little girl, probably no more than three years old. She was constantly asking questions, like how the lights changed color or why Brook was so tall. She was also quite interested in music, often sitting next to her father on the piano bench and pressing a key when he indicated.

Once, when she missed her cue, she stormed off towards her mother, launching into a tirade about how difficult her father was and how he'd never work in this town again. Everyone was in stitches by the time she was done. A few of the dancers even applauded her, calling her star-tantrum-throwing abilities the best they'd ever seen.

Those dancers were some of the funniest people he had ever met. Their names were Anastasia and Catherine, and they were always playing practical jokes on everyone, their favorite being the classic hard-boiled egg toss. They never failed at making him laugh, even when he was upset about a getting a poor review or something similar. They were also good at what they did, and could dance for hours at a time without taking a single break. He thought about the time when Catherine collapsed after walking offstage, having fought off the urge through three encores. They were truly an amazing pair, and their choreography never ceased to amaze him. Although that was usually their choreographer's handiwork-

At the thought of the choreographer, he felt a sudden tightness in his chest. Of all the people he had met while he was famous, she would always hold a special place in his long-gone heart.

They had first met when she had ducked inside the lobby of the studio he was recording in to avoid a massive heatwave that had engulfed the island. "You know, you deal with the summertime all your life, and it still feels like your eyeballs are melting when it gets above a hundred," She had panted as she leaned against a wall.

"Normally, I wouldn't hesitate to agree with a pretty woman like you, miss," Brook said. "But sadly, I have no eyes! Yohoho!"

"Huh?" She looked at him, and her own eyes widened while her jaw dropped slightly. "Oh, wow."

"Don't worry, you're among friends here," He gestured to a large armchair next to where he was seated. "Come, take a seat over here. It's much nicer in front of this fan."

Eyes still wide, she accepted his invitation and sat down. As soon as the cool air hit her face, she forgot her shock and she slouched, reveling in the slight reprieve from the oven-like heat. While she relaxed, Brook took the time to study her. Her dark, coffee-colored skin glistened with sweat, causing her clothes to cling to her body as if they had been sewn on. Her shirt especially fell victim to this phenomenon. Brook guessed that it was normally looser on her. Not that he was complaining, of course. Her long legs were stretched out in front of her, and she wore a pair of simple sandals on her feet. The one thing that really captured his attention, however, was her hair. It was white as snow save for the part, where it revealed it was normally a dark brown.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," She said, surprising him.

"Ah, my apologies," He said. "It's just that your hair is rather striking."

"In a good way?"

"In a very good way."

"Thank you. You're quite striking yourself."

"My hair?"

"All of you. I've never met a talking skeleton before."

He leaned forward in his chair and rested his cheekbone on his hand. "And I've never met a woman as beautiful as you until today, miss...?"

"Call me Sasha," She said as she grinned at him. "Sasha Wani."

They struck up a conversation while she cooled down. He found out that she was an out-of-work dancer, and that she was turning twenty-eight in a few months. She had moved to this island with a friend a few months ago; she was originally from the kingdom of Alabasta. He told her that he was a musician, and that he was putting the finishing touches on his debut album. He explained that the floor he was working on was unbearably hot, and that he came downstairs when no one was looking. They would have talked longer, but his managers stormed into the lobby to yell at him to "stop being lazy and get back up there and finish recording!" During the brief commotion, Sasha decided that it was time for her to leave. She thanked Brook for sharing his fan with her, wished him luck with his career, and was about to leave when he mentioned that she was a dancer. His managers suddenly turned into Mister Congenialities and gave their undivided attention to her, as they knew that if the album was a success dancers would be needed for the subsequent tour. They soon hired her as a choreographer, and the smile of gratitude she gave him made him feel like a million berries.

Had he still had lips, Brook would have grinned at the memory. But he didn't, and instead chuckled quietly to himself. Looking back, he supposed that it was foreshadowing for certain things to come, like their dance.

It had been a few months after they had met. The album was finished and it was an immediate hit, with the first two singles practically becoming overnight sensations. One of them opened with a string section, and the managers insisted that when they went on tour he should perform a dance with a partner to it. He was reluctant at first, but eventually gave in when they told him that Sasha would be teaching it to him.

Brook met her in one of the unused storage rooms. It was very large and when he strolled in, Sasha was sitting in the middle of the floor with her back to him. She was in the middle of a stretch that looked like a cross between a yoga pose and something that would normally be in a contortionist's repertoire. Her hands were held straight above her head and their fingers were intertwined. Her legs were stretched out on either side of her, forming a perfect split that he could only stare at.

"How is it that women are able to do that?" He wondered aloud.

Sasha brought her hands down and turned to him, grinning. "Maybe it's because we don't have any protruding tender parts to worry about," She said. "Nah, I've seen men do it, too. It just takes a lot of practice."

She stood up and as she sauntered over to him, he noticed how form fitting her leotard and stockings were. "Get your legs all stretched out. This dance has a lot of of fancy footwork, and I don't want to have to stop in the middle because you pulled something."

"There's no need to worry about that, Sasha," He said. "I have nothing to pull."

She laughed and shook her head. "You really are a piece of work, Brook," She said. "Just do it and pretend it's a favor for me. We'll start whenever you're ready."

She hadn't exaggerated about the fanciness of the footwork. It was an Argentine tango, she explained, and throughout the entire lesson, he was apologizing for stepping on her feet or for accidentally colliding with her when he turned the wrong way. She took it all in stride, only snapping at him a few times. They worked through the morning and into the night perfecting it.

It was almost eight o' clock when it had happened, and they were both exhausted. "One last time," She said. "Then we can go home."

Brook nodded. He was beginning to ache, and he knew he would have no trouble sleeping through the night. He turned on the radio, and they took their positions.

Perhaps it had been because they were overtired, but the way they danced was different. She seemed more responsive, anticipating where his feet would land and avoided them with seconds to spare, quite literally keeping him on his toes. He seemed to remember the height at which she would raise her leg up, and he would rest his hands a little higher than usual. She would hold him just a little closer after he spun her back into his arms, and the way her eyes seemed to glow as she looked up at him made his long-gone heart flutter.

Too soon for his tastes, the strings drew to a close and began to segue into the guitar that opened the song proper. He spun her out one more time, and she pressed herself up against him when she twirled back. He still couldn't figure out what had come over him, as without thinking, he dipped her instead of pulling away, causing a squeak of surprise to escape from her lips.

When he realized what he had done, he felt his cheeks grow hot. "I'm so sorry," He said sheepishly. "I don't know what came over me, it just seemed to happen..."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "I-It's okay," She was silent for a moment, blinking. "I don't know why I'm realizing this now, but you're a really good dancer."

"Yohoho, I learned from the best," He said. He was silent, and was about to straighten back up when the unthinkable happened.

While he was distracted, Sasha had snaked her arms around his neck and slowly pulled herself towards him. Without warning, she gently pressed her lips up against his mouth in a simple kiss.

It was only a kiss, but he felt like it had set off fireworks in his mind. At that moment, he could have moved mountains and turned back the tides if he needed to. He could have stolen the moon right out of the sky for her, if she had asked him to. He realized that when she was happy, he was happy but for no other reason. When she was upset, he wanted his to be the comforting embrace that she turned to first. And when she danced, he wanted to be the one dancing with her, or better still, the one she danced for.

In a few short moments, he had fallen madly in love with Sasha Wani, and he knew that she felt the same way.

When they finally pulled apart, she smiled at him, her eyes glittering. "Oddly enough, you look surprised."

"Do I?" He asked breathlessly. "It's just been a long time since someone...kissed me," The word felt odd, like it was something that he had come up with on the spot.

"I guess I remedied that, then."

"Yes...thank you," He said as they returned to a standing position. "Sasha?"

"Brook?"

The words were out of his mouth before he even realized it. "Would you be so kind as to allow me a glimpse of your panties?"

She looked confused for a moment, but she eventually grinned at him. "Not on the first date," She said. "But you can walk me home if you want."

What a wonderful walk it was. They talked the entire time, ignoring the shocked stares of people who recognized him and the frightened looks of those who didn't. She even held his hand, swinging it back and forth as they walked. He thought he saw some flashbulbs going off when she kissed him goodnight on the steps of her apartment, but he decided not to care. They were a couple now, and he didn't give a damn if the whole world knew it. His managers found out about it and gave him quite the verbal thrashing, but he paid them no mind. He had found a new muse, and as soon as he returned to his own apartment he began composing a soft ballad in her name.

Brook chuckled to himself again. Without warning, he'd fallen head over heels in love, and it had made him feel like he was a young man again. At least he had enjoyed the feeling while it lasted. Not that it wasn't a quick romance, but the initial shock quickly matured into something else. He chuckled again as he recalled exactly when it did so.

It had been after a concert about a year after they had met, and they were still a considered a rather hot item amongst the paparazzi. Whenever they fought, they made up some story about how he had caught her with some other guy, even when in reality it could have been just over how he was ignoring her in favor of something else. Whenever she walked out in a heavy coat, they started rumors about how she was trying to hide a baby bump, no matter how cold it was outside. He had been reading a similar story for amusement when there was a knock at the door. Half expecting it to be a fan that bribed the man at the desk, he answered it, but he was pleasantly surprised when Sasha was there in her pajamas, looking like she had just run a marathon.

"I can't sleep," She explained. "The people in the room next to me are having a party or something and I've asked them to quiet down at least six times. Mind if I hang out here for a bit?"

"Not at all, my love. I could use a bit of company." He said. "But only if you give me a kiss."

With a look of good-natured annoyance, she pecked him on the cheek, strolled inside and flopped onto the bed. "Your mattress is a lot softer than my mattress."

"I couldn't imagine why," He laughed as he sat down next to her. He was still wearing his concert costume, and the feathers of the boa he wore around his neck brushed up against her arm. Sasha let out a gasp and reflexively jerked it back.

Brook stared for a moment, confused. "I didn't know you were ticklish, Sasha."

"I'm not! Those things just surprised me," She said.

He didn't believe a word. "I think that someone's ticklish."

"I'm not, honest! I just-!" Brook suddenly cut her off by running the feather boa down her arm, causing her to squeal. He tried to do it again, but she jumped up off the bed before he could reach her. "I swear to God, if you do that one more time..."

"What will you do?" He asked as he stood up. He strode towards her, twirling the boa as if it were a policeman's baton.

Instead of replying, she dove onto the armchair he had been sitting in earlier. She snatched up the news paper and, rolling it into a tube, brandished it like a sword. "If you come any closer with that thing, I'll smack you."

Brook stared at her for what felt like hours as he formulated a plan of attack. As soon as she was in an ideal position, he would feint left, throw the boa around her body and pull her as close to him as he could manage, trapping her. If she tried to duck between his legs, he would grab her waist and pull her back out. It wasn't the greatest plan in the world, but this wasn't the most serious situation in the world.

While he had been thinking, Sasha had maneuvered herself in front of the bed, using the newspaper as a barrier between the two. She eyed him warily. "I won't let you catch me, no matter how hard you try," She said. "You are not going to tickle me with that blasted feather boa, either. And if you even think about trying, I will, once again, hit you with this."

Brook ignored her warning. He leaned left, just like he planned, and she predictably jumped to his right. With a triumphant laugh, he caught her in a bear hug mid leap, and pressed her up against his body, using the boa to hold her there.

What he hadn't accounted for, however, was her struggling. She writhed as the feathers touched the bare skin of her shoulders and neck, giggling and smiling against her will. "I told you to stop that!" She managed to spit out between fits of laughter. "When I get out of this, I'm going to beat you so hard, they'll think you're being murdered!"

"You can threaten me with that all you want, darling, but it won't make me let you go any faster because I'm already dead!" He laughed in response.

Furious at his mocking tone, she began to kick. She had very long, strong legs, and it only took a single lucky shot to the back of his knees to send the both of them crashing downwards. To his slight surprise, they landed on the bed in a rather compromising position. The only thing that had prevented him from falling on top of her were his hands and knees, which had managed to land next to her arms and hips, respectively. It looked for all the world like he was pinning her to the bed, causing Brook to shudder at the thought of doing something like that to her. He looked to the side for a moment to reassure that no one had opened the door to see them in such an inappropriate position.

Apologizing profusely, he was about to stand back up when Sasha lifted one of her legs and gently placed it upon his back. "Most men would have taken advantage of this situation already," She murmured. "But then again, you're not like most men, are you?"

She gently began to stroke his spine with her heels. The usual glitter of her eyes had been replaced with a smokey gleam that seemed to beckon him even closer. The sound of her voice didn't help either, stirring something inside him that he thought had disappeared long ago.

He couldn't help but stare at her, completely in shock. "Y-You sound disappointed," He finally managed to stutter. It took all his self control to prevent his voice from jumping several octaves higher.

A slight smile graced her lips. "Do I?" She asked, barely louder than a whisper. The sudden feeling of her arms wrapping around his neck made him yelp, but he was quickly silenced with a gentle kiss. "I didn't mean to...perhaps you can fix that," She said as they broke apart.

"Perhaps I can fix that," Brook said softly. Without a moments' hesitation, he returned the kiss and maneuvered himself so that he was straddling her waist.

The rest of the night was a like a blur to him. No particular moment stood out in his mind, but he could remember small bits and pieces of the greater picture. The memories of running his fingers through her hair and of her smooth, warm skin pressed up against his cool, stiff bones, for instance. Or of her soft coos of pleasure when he touched her body, and of how he himself moaned when she kissed and sucked at his collarbone. Of particular clarity was the way her back arched when she had reached her climax, the way she cried out his name in pure ecstasy. But the memory of her falling asleep with her arms around his ribcage and her head upon his sternum was as clear as a summer day. She looked so innocent, like she trusted him to make sure that nothing hurt her while she slept.

When he woke up in the morning, Sasha was nowhere to be found. He searched the entire bedroom for her, even checking behind the mirror up against the wall. He quickly gave up, assuming she had gone back to her room to get dressed and donned a fresh pair of pants. When he walked through the doorway that led to the rest of the suite, however, he found her sitting at the table with two plates of food, wearing nothing but his feather boa around her neck.

"I hope you like your eggs sunny-side up," She said with an apologetic smile. "I didn't know what to say when the room service guy asked."

Brook found himself staring. "I thought you hated that thing."

"I do. I couldn't find my shirt when I woke up and I couldn't open the door completely naked, could I?"

The thought of the look on the poor delivery boy's face nearly reduced him to tears of laughter then, and it was just as effective years later. He remembered being quite surprised that no one else mentioned it to him later, not even in passing, but he supposed now that if someone had told him that the Soul King's girlfriend answered the door stark naked except for an orange feather boa, he wouldn't have believed them either. He laughed again; somehow, the thought of someone telling that story made it even funnier.

"Oi, keep it down, I can hear you from the men's quarters."

Brook nearly jumped a foot when he heard Sanji coming up the stairs. "My apologies," He said. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"I was already up," The blonde man lit a cigarette. "What's so funny, anyways?"

He suppressed another giggle. "Nothing of particular importance, just something my old girlfriend did."

Sanji's head whipped around. "You had a girlfriend?"

"Yes, I did. She was a choreographer."

"What did she do?"

"She answered the door to our hotel room naked one," He said matter-of-factly. "I was just imagining the look on the delivery boy's face when he saw her wearing only a feather boa."

The unwavering stare Sanji gave him made Brook extremely uncomfortable. It was a combination of envy and pure, undiluted hate. "She better have been treated like a goddess," He said slowly. "Or your ass is going to be kicked so hard, you won't be able to sit properly for a month."

The skeleton ignored the threat. "She was loyal up until the very end, how could I not have?" He said. "I should have told her the truth from the beginning, though."  
"You lied to her?" Sanji suddenly grabbed him by the collar and jerked him forwards, the fires of Hell burning in his one visible eye.

"No no no! I never even dreamt of such a thing!" He said, panicking. "I meant that I should have told her who I was and when we were reuniting!"

Sanji let go of him and sat down. "What did you do about it, then?" His tone was softer, but there was still a threatening tone lurking underneath.

Brook swallowed. "The night before we arrived at Sabaody, I pulled her aside so we could talk privately. I tried to explain the situation as best as I could, but she was utterly furious when she found out. She accused making up some wild story so I could leave her without feeling guilty. She stormed out practically hysterical. I chased after her, trying to apologize, but she would have none of it, and she locked herself in her quarters with the other dancers."

"What happened after?"

"I don't know. It was actually the last time I ever saw her."

Sanji winced in sympathy. "That sucks."

"I do seem to recall someone say that she hopped aboard the next ship bound for Water 7, though," Brook said. He sighed deeply. Even all these years later, it still pained him to think about how she had sobbed while running through the hallways of the ship. "If I had only known how she would have reacted, I would never have told her at all..."

"That would have been worse than not telling her," Sanji said. "Granted, she should've known from the start, but a late explanation is better than no explanation at all."  
After a moment, Brook sighed again. "I suppose you're right."

"Unlike a certain moss-headed idiot, I'm always right." They were silent for a few moments. "If you don't mind me asking, what was her name?"

"Sasha," The skeleton said. "Sasha Wani."

"Was she pretty?"

"Absolutely stunning, if you like women with platinum hair."

"Dancer's legs?"

"Of course."

Sanji 'hmmph'ed. "I'll take over the watch. You go get some sleep."

Brook stood up and nodded. "Thank you. Good night."

His gait was slightly off-balance, but he was soon out of sight. The blonde cook heard the door to the men's quarters open and close. Free to relax, he looked up at the sky above just in time to see a bright white streak flash across the sky.

He thought long and hard about what wish to make, flip-flopping between several choices before deciding on one. He wished that he could meet this mysterious Sasha Wani someday soon, for her to smile and allow him to evaluate her beauty for himself. He would have to judge her dancing, as well.

Sanji smiled softly to himself as he exhaled a plume of smoke. Maybe, if she passed with flying colors, he could introduce her to his skeletal friend.

* * *

**A/N: Good morning/afternoon/evening, everyone! I'm Pingo T. Best, and according to Word, this story is a little more than eight pages long. O.O That's significantly longer than most of my school reports.**

**Now, I know that you're most likely thinking I'm absolutely insane for writing this. You're mostly correct, as I am rather batty, but the reason I wrote this has nothing to do with that. While listening to Aerosmith one night, I simply got the urge to write an OC story, and I decided to pair her up with one of the decidedly less popular options. Also, the song Brook is humming way up there at the beginning is Billy Joel's "River of Dreams." It's a lovely song, and I highly recommend it.**

**Many thanks to Lucky Marie for proofreading and reviewing this in an **_**extremely**_** professional way, and thank you (yes, **_**you!**_**) for reading!**


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